


Home for the Howlidays

by star_slayer



Category: Choices: Home for the Holidays
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Blood, Body Horror? kind of, Canon Divergent, Choices: Stories That You Play, Fluff, Holidays, Injury, M for sexual themes and violence, M/M, MC is an idiot, Minor Character Death, Playchoices - Freeform, i wrote this as a joke at first but then i kind of got into it, kind of cheesy lol, sex but it's not explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 12:55:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14355969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_slayer/pseuds/star_slayer
Summary: When Nick Peralta flies to Winter Haven to deliver manuscripts to his employee, he certainly doesn't expect to get stuck there. With five days until the full moon and six until Christmas, it's not his idea of a vacation.Nick gets more than he bargained for with Wyatt Hart, the resident mechanic and werewolf. As frustrating as Nick is, Wyatt finds himself drawn to the publishing agent.The moon will rise. Blood will be shed. And Winter Haven will never be the same.





	Home for the Howlidays

Nick Peralta waited outside his employee’s house. In the snow. Surrounded by holiday decorations. _Shoot me with a silver bullet_ , he thought as he scowled at an inflatable Santa.

“Umm, are you okay?”

Said overly excited employee, Scarlett Joy, peered at him from behind her fringe of dark hair. 

Nick folded his arms and didn’t dignify her with a response. He wasn’t a huge holiday fan to begin with, nor did he particularly enjoy traipsing through small towns with only one coffee shop to their name, and being around Scarlett only frayed his nerves further. If he breathed in, he could smell the attraction rolling off of her. 

It not only served to remind him that his partner, whom he had been with for years, had broken up with him only a couple days ago; as a werewolf who was now without a mate, he would instinctually respond to these pheromones. Especially with a full moon so close.

The other night in his office, during the holiday party, he’d nearly kissed Scarlett simply because she was a warm body and attracted to him. Even considering how much she got on his nerves. If not for the fact that he had remarkable self-constraint and a mountain of manuscripts for Joy to work through, he would not have come to Winter Haven at all.

“Or ignore me, that’s cool, too,” Scarlett continued.

Nick gritted his teeth against another wave of her scent invading his senses. It was weaker, his rudeness putting her off, but still decidedly smitten. His muscles spasmed as he fought to keep his hands to himself. He hadn’t been single in so long, and he’d forgotten what it was like to feel these urges. Recounting the reasons why he definitely did not want to mate with Scarlett slowly won over his animal tendencies.

The cold barely touched him, but Joy was shivering in the falling snow. “Why don’t you go inside?” he asked. “I can wait for the ride here. By myself.”

He hoped Scarlett would get the point, but she just beamed. “Oh, not to worry! I don’t mind waiting with you one bit.”

_Damn you_ , he thought. Out loud, he said, “Fine.”

They waited in silence--at least, Nick was silent while Scarlett prattled about the joys of Winter Haven. He almost sighed in relief at the sight of a truck with “Hart Mechanics” emblazoned on the side cresting the hill and slowing to a stop in front of them.

A blond man in the driver’s seat waved at them and cracked the window so his voice could be heard. “Another favor, Joy? You’re gonna owe me big time.”

Scarlett laughed. “Thanks for coming, Wyatt. This is my boss, Mr. Peralta--I mean, Nick.”

Nick and Wyatt locked eyes--and froze. A feeling like an itch at the back of his skull alerted Nick that this white man, with disarming baby blue eyes and a mouth shaped like a prayer, was also wolfkind. The expression written on Wyatt’s face told him that Nick’s status hadn’t escaped him, either.

As they stared at each other in total silence, each working through how to respond, Scarlett gave Nick a small shove forward. “Don’t be shy,” she said, oblivious to how he stiffened. “Wyatt doesn’t bite, I promise.”

_I’ll bet he doesn’t_ , thought Nick, but he cleared his throat said blandly, “Nice to meet you.”

After a moment’s decision, Wyatt got out of the car. He stood slightly taller than Nick, but neither man was intimidated by the other, just cautious.

“Nice to meet you,” Wyatt parroted.

Nick sniffed, taking in the stranger’s scent. The concoction that was Wyatt’s aroma, he could only translate as _stranger_ and _familiar_ and _hunger_.

“I call the window seat!” Scarlett chimed as she started around the truck.

“No,” Nick and Wyatt said.

Scarlett looked between them, her brows furrowing. “I mean, I can sit in the middle, it’s no biggie.”

“It’s not that,” Wyatt said.

“So, what?” she asked. “Do you not want me coming with you?”

“Yes,” Nick said as Wyatt responded, “No.”

“It’s just,” Wyatt began, “it’s just-- there’s so little room in the truck, and I don’t have a lot of gas to drive you back after I take Nick here to his helicopter, and--”

Realization dawned on Scarlett’s face. “You’re afraid you two will fight over me.”

Nick snorted.

“What?” Wyatt said.

“No, no, it’s so obvious,” she said, resuming her spot in the driveway. “I’ll just make things worse by coming along. You two go without me.”

Her expression mirrored a painting Nick had once seen of a martyr, willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good. He didn’t want Scarlett around when Wyatt inevitably grilled him, though, so he said, “Oh, yes, thank you for understanding, Joy.”

“Y-Yeah,” Wyatt said, following Nick’s lead and looking distinctly uncomfortable. Nick guessed that the man found Scarlett Joy as irritating as he did and almost laughed.

Nick got in the truck with Wyatt, pressing himself into the passenger-side door to put as much distance between the other werewolf and himself as he could. Scarlett waved to them as they pulled away from the house and started up the hill.

A beat of silence passed between them as they both sat bolt straight, unable to relax in each other’s presence. When Wyatt reached to shut the heater off, neither man needing it, Nick flinched, shrinking even further away from him. 

Wyatt’s brows lowered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Nick scoffed. “As if I’m worried about that.”

He stared out the window, purposefully not meeting Wyatt’s searching gaze. “I know you’re packless,” said Wyatt. “And you’re unclaimed.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed as he watched cheery, tacky holiday decorations pass out the window. “What’s your point?”

“Point being,” Wyatt said, fighting to keep annoyance from creeping into his tone, “that I understand if you’re wary. Walking into a strange pack’s territory without permission is a death sentence in some places, but not here. I’m packless, too.”

_And also unclaimed_ , Nick heard. That is, without a mate. He didn’t smell arousal on Wyatt, but it didn’t help that the blond was trying to be nice to him. His fist clenched, his nails digging half-moons into his palm. “I’d appreciate it if we’d limit the talking to directions only,” he muttered darkly.

Wyatt frowned and turned his full attention to the road. “Fine.”

The silence only lasted a half mile, however, because Wyatt had a question for him.

“Does… she know?” he asked.

Nick blinked at him. “Who?’

“Scarlett,” Wyatt said. “Does she know… what you are?”

Nick shook his head and laughed without humor. “No. No human does.”

“Ah.” Another pause, then, “And you have no intention of mating with her, right?”

Nick scoffed. “Do you?”

“No,” said Wyatt.

“No for me as well,” Nick said. “With a healthy dose of ‘hell no.’”

Wyatt rewarded him with a small laugh. Nick returned to staring out the window and tried to ignore the pleasant feeling Wyatt’s laugh produced in his chest.

Once they reached Nick’s helicopter, he hopped out before the truck came to a full stop. The red helicopter rested in the heart of a snowy clearing, unmoving, flakes swirling through the air. Rather than sitting in the cockpit, however, his pilot, Charles, was fiddling with the vehicle itself.

Nick approached, hearing Wyatt close his car door and follow. “What’s going on, Charles?” He had to raise his voice slightly to be heard over the wind of the snow storm.

Charles poked his head out from behind the copter and grimaced. “Hey, Nick. Got some bad news, I’m afraid. The rotor mast iced over in the storm, and it looks like it’s cracked. We’re not getting out of here until we can replace it.”

Nick glowered at the useless helicopter. “And how soon will that be?”

“I can help!” Wyatt piped up from behind him, his footsteps crunching as he passed Nick to the helicopter. “I own the only mechanic shop in town, so I can order the part for you, no sweat.”

This cannot be happening. Nick clenched his jaw as Wyatt and Charles looked over the helicopter and returned. Wyatt’s face was apologetic as he said, “I can order all the parts you need back at the garage.”

Frustrated with Wyatt’s expression, Nick turned to Charles. “Charles, what’s going on?”

Charles sighed. “Sorry, boss. There’s no way we can fly out of here soon.”

\--  
 **Five Days Until Full Moon**  
\--

As Wyatt drove them back to the Joy house, Charles wedged between Nick and Wyatt in the truck, Nick ignored the amiable conversation between the other men.

“This whole town seems to have the holiday spirit,” Charles was saying, but Wyatt didn’t register his words for several moments. He couldn’t help glancing at Nick from the corner of his eye to see him intently tapping away at his phone.

“Er… yeah, it is,” Wyatt said lamely.

Charles pretended not to notice Wyatt’s distraction as he continued pointing out things he saw or talking about the weather. Wyatt did try to keep up, but his attention kept wandering back to the other rogue.

When they finally reached the Joy house, Scarlett was waiting for them. Wyatt guessed one of the people Nick had been contacting was her. A box of manuscripts hung heavy in her arms. Wyatt debated a moment before getting out of the car, the pilot and the publishing agent following his lead.

Wyatt admired the set-up in the Joy’s yard. “You guys sure are ready to ring in the holidays.”

Scarlett beamed. “Thanks, Wyatt.” She turned to Nick, and Wyatt could detect her attraction to him. He also noted the frown Nick immediately fixed in place as he tried not to react.

As an unclaimed rogue, Wyatt was susceptible to the same problems as Nick, but he’d been single far longer and had less admirers, so it had never hit him as hard. Still, he watched with sympathy the way Nick shoved his hands in his pockets and avoided eye contact with Scarlett.

“I just,” Nick said, “came to take some of the manuscripts off your hands. Since I’m going to be stranded here for a few days.”

“Oh, of course,” Scarlett said. “Here, take half. And um… do you have someplace to stay?”

Nick sighed. “Unfortunately not. Wyatt tells me all the bed and breakfasts in town are booked full of tourists.”

Scarlett’s mother, joining them in the yard, perked up. “Oh, you can stay with us!”

Charles smiled. “Thank--”

“No, no,” Nick said hurriedly. Scarlett, her mother, and Charles stared at him, matching confusion on their faces. “You see…”

Nick’s gaze landed on Wyatt. “You see, Wyatt has already offered me a place with him.”

All eyes were on Wyatt.

“Um…. Excuse us, please.” Wyatt led Nick out of earshot of the humans before turning to him. “When I said you didn’t have to worry, that didn’t mean I want a rogue in my house.”

Nick tried to remain outwardly calm, but Wyatt could hear his heart jumping. “I’ll pay you.”

“I don’t need your money,” Wyatt said. And he didn’t. Wyatt Hart was a self-made man, forced into learning independence when his father abandoned his mother and him. In fact, Nick’s offer offended him on some level. He continued, “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Scarlett, but it’s none of my concern.”

“There must be _something_ you want,” Nick said, a hint of desperation in his tone. When Wyatt still hesitated, he added, “Please. I know it’s not ideal to take in a stranger, much less one like me, but… please.”

“Okay, you can stay with me,” Wyatt said. Nick’s shoulders sagged in relief. “But I have two conditions.”

Nick said impatiently, “And those would be?”

Wyatt tacked his first condition on his pointer finger. “Rule number one. The full moon will be on Christmas Eve this year, and it’s extremely important that you don’t harm anyone.”

“Done,” Nick said. “Next?”

Wyatt wanted to stress the first point more. After all, he didn’t know anything about this rogue except that he was more used to a big city than small-town life. Instead, Wyatt shook his head and went to his next condition, counting it on his middle finger. “Rule number two. I know Winter Haven better than you do, and you’ll be in my house, so I need you to trust me enough to listen when I tell you to do something. Or not to do something.”

Nick read between the lines. “You want me to do what you say.”

“Well, yes,” Wyatt said. “But you have to understand--”

Nick lifted his hand to stop Wyatt’s argument before it had begun. “Don’t have an aneurysm. I’ll do it.”

Wyatt blinked. Submission wasn’t something werewolves tended to take lightly, and yet to Nick, it seemed as though Wyatt had asked something trivial. If it was that important for Nick to be away from Scarlett, the rogue must be having a hard time.

“...Oh,” Wyatt said at last. “Er, good.”

Without waiting for Wyatt, Nick turned on his heel and rejoined the group of humans. “It’s settled. I’ll be rooming with Wyatt. Charles, you’re free to stay with the Joys.”

“If they want me, of course,” Charles said humbly.

Scarlett’s mother smiled up at him. “We’d be honored.”

After retaking half of Scarlett’s manuscripts and enduring a few more minutes talking to her, Wyatt and Nick were on the road again. The snowfall had lessened considerably. Nick grumbled something about timing and his helicopter while Wyatt tried to identify what had changed about the other werewolf. Something in his scent read differently to Wyatt, but he couldn’t put his finger on what.

“We used to have a pack here, you know,” Wyatt said as they waited at a stop light.

Nick didn’t look up from his phone. “What happened to it?”

Wyatt was silent long enough that Nick lifted his gaze. “You don’t have to…”

“No, it’s fine,” Wyatt sighed. The light turned green, and he nudged the gas pedal. “After the alpha left, everyone just sort of… moved away. Formed different packs. My mother is human, so I’m the last one here.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t leave with them?”

He shook his head. “I was just a kid. Besides, I don’t know where they went.”

“Oh.”

Wyatt didn’t like the heavy silence that settled between them after that, so he grabbed the first question to pop in his mind. “What about New York City? I imagine there are quite a few rogues.”

“There are,” Nick said vaguely. His attention returned to his phone, and Wyatt let the subject drop.

A large sign bearing Hart Mechanics in block letters stood above a garage wide enough to house three vehicles at a time. Snow trimmed the windowsills and dusted the driveway; Wyatt would have to shovel it again. A few feet from the garage on the left was the quaint house its mechanic called home. Wreaths hung from the doors and multicolored Christmas lights brightened the buildings.

Wyatt pulled up beside a herd of plastic reindeer and parked. Nick’s expression soured as he got a good look of where he would be living for the next week or so.

“What?” said Wyatt.

Nick shook his head. “Nothing, just… the holiday decorations.”

Wyatt frowned. He’d thought he’d done a good job decorating this year. “What about them?”

“You don’t think they’re too much?”

“No,” Wyatt said, offended for the second time that day. “If you don’t like it, the Joys still have room.”

“It’s fine.” Nick rolled his eyes and grabbed his stuff from the seat between them. He balanced the manuscripts precariously. Upon seeing the struggle, Wyatt automatically tried to help, reaching for the stack. “Here, let me--”

His fingers brushed against Nick’s. Nick recoiled, sending the manuscripts spilling across the cabin of the truck.

“S-Sorry,” Wyatt stuttered. He helped pick up the manuscripts, both men diligent not to touch again as they did so.

Wyatt scooped up the last few by his feet and arranged his stack in a neat tower. When he looked to Nick, he caught the rogue watching him with a strange expression. It quickly hardened to indifference.

Nick popped open his door, one hand under his tower of manuscripts, and slung his small travel bag over his shoulder. Wyatt slid out of the driver’s seat, taking care to balance his stack, and followed Nick up the walkway to the front door. The doormat bid them welcome as they entered the house.

Stepping inside, Wyatt led the way through the living space and dumped his share of manuscripts on the little table in his kitchen. Nick did the same and turned slowly in place, taking in the home. Most of it could be seen from the kitchen, anyway: the living space they’d passed through, the tiny kitchen, the cubicle in the wall for laundry, the hallway leading down to the bedroom and guest room. It was clearly a home for survival, not to be lived in.

“How…” Nick searched for a word. “Interesting. Where will I be sleeping?”

Wyatt pointed to the hallway. “It’s the door on your left.” He accompanied Nick to the room and watched his reaction as he took in the plain bedspread, the single dresser, the dull blue paint on the walls. “Is it to your liking?”

“It’s satisfactory,” Nick replied, completely missing the sarcasm in Wyatt’s tone. He dropped his bag on the bed.

Wyatt eyed the bag. “Doesn’t look like you brought much with you.”

“No,” Nick agreed. “I wasn’t expecting to be trapped here.”

Wyatt shrugged and said, “You could always borrow some things from me if you run out. I have some old clothes in the dresser. And you’re free to use the washer and dryer.”

Nick heaved a sigh. “I suppose.”

Wyatt stood there awkwardly before clearing his throat. “Okay. Uh, you can watch some TV or make yourself something in the kitchen if you want. I don’t have a lot, but…”

“No need,” said the rogue. “I’ll be working at the table the majority of my time here, if you don’t mind.”

The last part was a question, though Nick didn’t phrase it as such. Wyatt said, “No, of course. Feel free. I’ll just… be in the garage… if you need me.”

He felt kind of lame for adding that last part, but Nick’s mind seemed a hundred miles away already as he scrolled through his phone again. He left with Wyatt to the kitchen where he grabbed a manuscript from the piles and sank into a chair to read.

_Guess that takes care of that_ , Wyatt thought. Hoping the rogue didn’t get himself into too much trouble, he tucked himself away in his garage and got to work.

\--

Nick stared blearily at the manuscript he was working on. No matter how he willed his eyes to focus, the words refused to become coherent sentences in his head.

“You’re still awake?”

Nick glanced up from the pages to see Wyatt at the other end of the table, stifling a yawn into his hand. For some reason, probably the dreamy quality of his senses, Nick hadn’t noticed the man approach.

He slapped the manuscript down on the table and checked the time on his phone. 12:41 in the morning. “I’m just finishing up,” he muttered. 

“I just got in, myself,” Wyatt said around another yawn. “Time flies when you’re… well, working, I guess.”

Dog-earing the page so he wouldn’t lose his place, Nick stood from the table. He looked Wyatt up and down. The mechanic had ditched his vest and long-sleeve for a T-shirt peppered with stains and tears. It at least flattered his muscled frame, and as Nick thought this, he forced his mind and his eyes away from Wyatt.

“What?” Wyatt said.

Nick said, “Nothing,” and tried to mean it. “Good night.”

Slipping past Wyatt, he retreated to the guest room and closed the door. He listened as the mechanic’s footsteps thudded toward the guest room, hesitated, then faded away.

\--  
 **Four Days Until Full Moon**  
\--

The sight of Nick in the morning startled Wyatt. For a moment, he’d forgotten all about the rogue staying with him. Seeing Nick in the kitchen wearing an old pair of Wyatt’s jeans combined with a festive sweater was a shock.

Nick brandished a cup of coffee and held it out to him. “You’ll have to doctor it to your liking.”

Wyatt accepted the mug wordlessly.

“Why are you staring?” Nick demanded.

“No reason,” Wyatt said, moving around where Nick leaned against the kitchen counter to grab sweetener. He cast another look at Nick over his shoulder. “Nice sweater.”

Nick’s expression soured. He mumbled into his coffee, “It was the least tacky thing that fit me.”

Wyatt had forgotten that most of the holiday clothes he wore were stored in the guest room dresser, along with normal clothes that no longer fit him. He supposed Nick and he were about the same size, except that the jeans Nick wore pooled at his ankles thanks to the height difference. He could offer Nick a different shirt, but why ruin the fun?

So he just stirred his coffee. “Thanks, by the way. You normally up this early?”

“I woke up at 6:15,” Nick said.

The time on the oven clock read 8:03. “Early,” Wyatt commented.

“Not for me. I’m usually awake by six.”

Wyatt waited for some sort of indication of a joke, but Nick just took a long drink of his coffee. “Wow, you really slept in.”

Nick sighed. “I know. This town is getting to me.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Wyatt said with a grin.

Nick side-eyed him. “No.” He drank from the mug.

Wyatt continued to smile as he gazed out the kitchen window. Sunlight shone off of blankets of snow and trickled through the trees. It would be a nice day for the annual Santa Claus competition, wherein residents of Winter Haven competed to see who would become the town’s favorite Santa.

Showering and dressing in his costume, a white t-shirt underneath a red jacket trimmed with fluff complete with Santa hat, Wyatt was about to leave for the competition when he passed Nick sitting at the table. The publishing agent was bent over the manuscript from last night, pen in hand.

“You know,” Wyatt said, “you can take a break and come to the Santa competition. These manuscripts will still be here when you get back.”

Nick looked up from the writing, gave Wyatt a once-over, and deadpanned, “That sounds truly horrendous.”

Wyatt shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Before the competition began was the parade. Holly Wright and Scarlett excitedly discussed Holly’s book, leaving Wyatt to socialize with his mother.

“Scarlett tells me her boss is staying with you,” Susan Hart murmured to her son.

The gleam in her eyes put Wyatt on edge. In his experience, his mother didn’t get that look about her unless she was scheming something.

“Yes,” Wyatt said cautiously.

Susan’s eyes sparkled. “Scarlett tells me he’s quite the attractive man. Maybe you can catch him under the mistletoe?”

“Mom!”

She laughed and squeezed Wyatt’s arm. “I’m only teasing you, honey.”

He made an excuse to head home and found Nick face down on a manuscript. He approached and shook the other man’s arm.

Nick jerked up, startled out of sleep. He rubbed his eyes and mumbled, “What time is it?”

“Currently…” Wyatt checked the oven clock. “It’s 2:30.”

“A.M.?”

He eyed Nick with open concern. “No, in the afternoon.”

Nick stifled a yawn. “I must have dozed off.”

“Must have.” Wyatt watched him pick up the manuscript and go back to reading. “Listen. The Santa competition is in a half hour. Why don’t you come and cheer me on?”

“Hard pass,” Nick said.

Wyatt sighed. “That’s too bad. There will be candy, carols… Scarlett.”

That earned him a glare. “I have no interest in Scarlett.”

Wyatt lifted his hands in surrender. “Hey, easy. I just noticed that she really seems to like you. And you haven’t exactly shot her down.”

Nick frowned. “She’s not my type.”

“No?” Wyatt said. “Then who is?”

Nick eyed him, then took a deep breath, as though steeling himself. “You know what? I’ll go to your tasteless Christmas special.”

Wyatt blinked. “Really?”

“Yes.” Nick dropped the manuscript and stood. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

At the competition, he wished Wyatt good luck before finding a seat in the auditorium. Wyatt was startled enough by Nick’s participation that he forgot to lead the crowd in a carol. Scarlett did instead, conducting the audience in a rendition of Deck The Halls that left smiles on everyone’s faces (except Nick’s.) As Wyatt handed out candy canes as his backup plan, he decided to push his luck and offer one to Nick.

“No, thanks,” Nick said with a scowl.

“But you’ve been so good this year!” Wyatt said, dangling the peppermint candy in front of Nick’s face.

Nick rolled his eyes and snatched the candy cane. “Fine. Happy now?”

Wyatt winked and rejoined the other Santas on the stage. Mayor Santos organized a vote for best Santa by audience participation. Though Scarlett won the town’s support by a landslide, Wyatt’s eyes found Nick in the crowd. Cheering for him.

\--

After the competition, Nick waded through the exiting crowd to join Wyatt and a balding man conversing jovially.

Wyatt’s expression softened as he looked to Nick. “Mayor Santos, this is my f-- I mean, Scarlett’s boss, Nick. Nick, this is the mayor of Winter Haven, Noel Santos.”

Nick frowned. “So you’re the one responsible for all this.”

“Ah, a city man,” Mayor Santos said. He offered his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Nick grasped the mayor’s hand and was about to repeat the phrase when a jolt of pain shot up his arm. He cradled his hand to his chest and snarled.

Wyatt wrapped his arms around Nick and pulled him into a bracing hug, Nick’s face hidden against his shoulder. “Oh, ho ho ho!” Wyatt was saying. “Just, uh, spreading the Christmas spirit, Noel!”

Nick breathed in Wyatt’s scent, relaxing as the sudden pain in his palm subsided, the skin knitting where it had split. He could faintly smell his blood, fresh before it clotted.

“You can’t have too much Christmas cheer, I guess.” Nick could hear the awkwardness in Mayor Santos’s voice as the older man moved away from them. “I’ll just… let you two do… whatever it is you’re doing.”

Wyatt removed one arm from the hug to wave. Once they were the only two left in the auditorium, he held Nick at arm’s length.

“What’s the matter with you?” Wyatt demanded. “You just freaked out in front of Noel. No, worse, you wolfed out in front of Noel.”

Nick blinked a few times as his vision returned to normal. No doubt what they had seen was Nick’s brown eyes turn golden, the pupil dilating. He ran his tongue over his teeth and felt their sharpness melt away, becoming blunt, human. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Nick was embarrassed by how dejected he sounded. Why did Wyatt’s approval mean so much to him?

Wyatt sighed, his gaze falling to Nick’s hand. He took Nick’s wrist and gently turned it over to inspect the damage. His brows furrowed. “It looks like a burn.”

“Obviously,” Nick scoffed. “Silver tends to do that.”

Wyatt let go of Nick’s wrist. “Silver? How were you burned by silver? And I thought it was only harmful if it pierced the skin.”

Nick flexed his hand as the burn faded. “I don’t know.”

\--

As the auditorium doors closed on Wyatt and Nick, Mayor Santos glanced down at his ring. On its sharp edge, concealed in his palm, was the unmistakable blood of a werewolf.

\--

For once, Wyatt did not have the radio on as he drove Nick and himself from the Santa competition. A million questions filled his mind, and he struggled to put voice to any of them.

For once, Nick was not on his phone, checking his email and reassuring the author in Barbados waiting for him. Instead, he watched out the windshield as Winter Haven fled by, silvery in the low moonlight. To the human eye, the moon certainly seemed full, but the werewolves in the truck knew better. They could feel her pull like a magnet, dragging their wolf forms out from hiding.

One of Wyatt’s questions tumbled out of his mouth. “What are you thinking about?”

Nick was silent for several long moments, almost prompting Wyatt to ask again. Finally, he answered, “Shifting here. I’ve never Changed in the woods before.”

Wyatt arched an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Nick nodded. “I’ve always lived in cities or suburbs. Whenever I have to Change, I lock myself in my apartment, in a cage.”

Wyatt winced. He couldn’t imagine trapping himself inside when there was a world to explore through a new set of eyes. “I… I see.”

“Look, I don’t need your pity,” Nick snapped, his eyes cutting at Wyatt before returning to the windshield. “I have a successful but time-consuming career. My condition is just a minor inconvenience once a month.”

Though Wyatt hadn’t known many other werewolves in his life, he had always embraced what he was. To him, his human life and wolf life were two halves of a whole. As a human, he was far too instinctive to be a man, and as a wolf, too smart to be an animal. The way Nick phrased his existence, as a “condition” and “inconvenience,” didn’t settle well with Wyatt.

So he let it go with a quiet “Okay.”

After a minute, Nick sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s fine,” Wyatt said. His house came into view of the headlights, and he found himself asking another question that had been around since that afternoon. “Why did you come with me to the Santa competition?”

Nick’s expression changed into surprise before he settled it back to indifference. He lifted one shoulder and said, “It seemed important to you. And well, I owe you since I’m staying here and drinking all your coffee.”

Wyatt parked and shut off the engine, smiling softly in the dark. “I’ll be sure to get some more.”

\--

**Three Days Until Full Moon**

\--

“Oh, come on.”

The next morning, Nick glared at Wyatt as he drank from his coffee. He lowered it to the table with a clink of finality. “I’ve already shirked work once to cheer for you in that ridiculous Santa competition. Leave me be.”

Wyatt shrugged. “I guess I can’t change your mind.”

“No,” Nick agreed, returning his attention to the manuscript. He hovered his pen over a passage he wanted to underline when Wyatt spoke again.

“I just thought, you know,” he was saying, “that you’d like to participate in the snowman competition. The prize is prestigious.”

Nick said, “Let me guess. It’s a meal voucher for that garish holiday diner.”

Wyatt didn’t immediately respond. “... Okay, but it’s not that garish. They have good food.”

The publishing agent rolled his eyes and refocused on the manuscript.

In a last-ditch effort, Wyatt said, “You’ll probably be able to throw a snowball or two at Scarlett.”

Nick set his pen down. “You won’t leave me alone until I go with you, will you?”

“Nope.” Wyatt beamed.

Heaving a sigh, Nick marked his progress, finished his coffee, and said, “Take me to your, ugh, snowman competition.”

Overnight, the clouds blessed Winter Haven with a fresh blanket of snow, which ensured every man, woman, and child had plenty of material to build their snowman. Nick wore a sweater more offensive than yesterday’s. Wyatt’s outfit had toned down to his usual vest and long-sleeve, though the Santa hat remained. As he got out of the truck, he grabbed a clipboard off the dash.

“What’s that?” Nick asked.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you? I’m judging.” Wyatt winked.

Nick groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Wyatt was not, in fact, kidding him. The mayor greeted the blond jovially and thanked him for judging. As soon as the mayor’s eyes landed on Nick, they went cold. Nick chalked it up to the attitude he’d shown Mayor Santos the other day, but as he knelt in the snow to assemble his snowman, he could feel someone’s eyes on him. Watching.

\--

Honestly, Wyatt was impressed in his own ability to get Nick to participate. He’d brought a bag of his favorite props to use for the competition when he’d competed in previous years, intending to give them to Nick. However, Scarlett and Holly’s snowman was shaping up to be pathetic, and Scarlett did spend the diamonds to use the props…

At least Nick was resourceful. As the competition came to a close and Wyatt surveyed the snowmen, most of them were the standard coal eyes and smile, some with stick arms and some without. Not only did Nick’s have stick arms, its mouth and eyes were made out of bits of candy cane. The candy cane curve made up the smile, while two small pieces of candy served as the eyes and the remaining piece poked out of the top snowball as a nose.

“Creative,” Wyatt said approvingly. “Is that the candy cane from yesterday?”

A hint of a smile tugged at Nick’s mouth. “Well, it wasn’t like I was going to eat it.”

Wyatt felt his own lips curving upward and moved on before he awarded Nick first place out of sheer bias. In the end, he gave the prize to Scarlett and Holly. Their diva snowman couldn’t be beat.

“Alright!” Scarlett cheered as she accepted the meal voucher to Bailey’s Diner. Holly squeezed her teammate’s arm affectionately.

Nick stopped next to Wyatt to appreciate the winning snowman. “Yeah, mine wasn’t near as good as this one,” he resigned.

Wyatt couldn’t resist. To Scarlett and Holly, he said, “Make sure to give me back those props when you’re done with them.”

“Okay!” Scarlett chirped.

Nick’s expression darkened as he turned to face Wyatt. “You helped them win?”

Wyatt shrugged.

“That’s cheating,” Nick said sourly. “And to think I actually tried when the whole game was stacked against me.”

Chuckling, Wyatt patted Nick’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Nick. I’ll buy you dinner at Bailey’s Diner to make up for it.”

Nick folded his arms. “I’m expecting as much.”

All it took for total chaos to break out among the people of Winter Haven was one bratty teenager shouting, “Snowball fight!” Before Wyatt could comment on the fact they were going to have a dinner date, Nick and he were dodging snow projectiles and running into the park.

Snowballs flew overhead and crashed at their feet as they searched for cover. After one of the teenagers dispensed a snowball, Nick spun around, grabbed a handful of snow, and hurled it into the kid’s face.

“Nick!” Wyatt exclaimed.

“What? It’s called self-defense!” Nick yelled back.

Wyatt stopped to survey his surroundings. Currently, the teenager who had targeted Nick was still wiping snow out of his eyes, and the other teens were preoccupied with attacking each other. That would change fast when they noticed the adults standing defenseless.

“Nick, follow me,” Wyatt called. Nick stopped pelting the teens with snowballs to follow Wyatt through the bare winter trees, around a park bench, underneath a bridge.

Surrounding them lay the picturesque winter landscape: trees laden with snow before a backdrop of white mountains. Flakes of snow drifted from the steely gray sky. Frost lined the bridge, adding accents to its delicate carvings. Hiding beneath the cover of the bridge, their breath clouding between them, the men no longer had excuses and distractions to deviate their attention.

Wyatt gazed at Nick, a snowflake trapped in his eyelashes. Nick removed the flake with a feather-light touch.

“Thanks,” Wyatt murmured. He feared if he spoke too loudly, his voice would shatter this fragile moment.

“Mm,” Nick hummed. No doubt he could hear Wyatt’s heart thundering and smell the start of attraction from him.

 

“You’re uh…” Wyatt’s nerves rattled as Nick gazed at him with those deep brown eyes. “You’re pretty good with snow,” he finished lamely.

Nick laughed, a genuine laugh that had Wyatt smiling. “Is that really what you want to say to me?”

The sweet aroma of reciprocated attraction rose off of Nick in waves. Wyatt licked his lips. Nick’s eyes followed the movement of his tongue, and he leaned in as though compelled to chase after it.

Their lips were a second apart when a snowball struck Wyatt in the back of the head.

He jerked back and looked toward the direction of the throw. A couple teenagers sneered at them.

“You little punks,” Wyatt said. “Just wait until Nick here--”

Wyatt turned to gesture to Nick, who was not above decimating teenagers, to see that Nick was gone. He looked further and found the rogue trudging through the snow, his hands in his pockets.

“Nick?” Wyatt jogged to catch up with him and reached out to catch his arm.

Nick shot a steely glare over his shoulder. “Don’t.”

Wyatt stopped and retracted his hand. “Sorry…”

Nick’s eyes softened somewhat, but he shook his head and continued his pace over the bridge and through the park, leaving Wyatt alone.

\--

The snow fell thicker and faster as Nick left his feelings for Wyatt under the bridge. If he had given in to his instincts, he would have lost everything that he’d been fighting for since his mother’s death: a normal, human life.

Relationships didn’t work out for Nick. He was a hard-working, industrious man at the height of his career. Jeopardizing that because his animal mind responded to Wyatt’s scent would be a landslide into losing the control he had accumulated. Not to mention he was just getting over his last relationship, ended exactly a week ago, and he didn’t need to repeat past mistakes.

A cool breeze tousled his carefully combed hair. Nick wasn’t as susceptible to the cold as a human might be, but he still shivered with the shower of snow and shivering winds.

When he reached the building bearing the sign Hart Mechanics, he was relieved to see Wyatt’s truck absent from the driveway, and relieved again to get out of the cold. Nick walked through the front door--it was unlocked; such is the trust of a small town--and went straight to work on his manuscripts.

He managed to finish the one he’d started a few days ago, woefully behind schedule, and dove into the next without pause. Wyatt entering barely registered with him at first, but Nick could feel a pair of eyes on him. He raised his head to see Wyatt watching him, his brows lowered.

Nick channeled his uncertainty into impatience. “What do you want?”

Wyatt opened his mouth as though to answer. He resolved to mutter, “Goodnight,” and passed Nick to his room.

Nick sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. Uncapping his pen, he marked up the manuscript in front of him. He ignored the siren call of sleep until the words blurred together, and then he went to face his dreams.

\--

**Two Nights Until Full Moon**

\--

Surprisingly, Nick wasn’t drinking coffee at the table and scowling at a manuscript like he had been since the first day he’d come to stay with Wyatt. Curiosity drove Wyatt to search the house for the other rogue. Among the stacks of manuscripts, he found a handwritten note addressed to him.

_Scarlett took me to go ice skating. Didn’t want to wake you._

_-N_

It took Wyatt twenty minutes to get ready and head out to Sweetheart Lake, the only place Scarlett and Nick could be. The lake was somewhat heart-shaped, earning its name, and it had frozen over every winter, providing the town of Winter Haven a reliable skating rink.

Wyatt parked beside a row of vehicles by the lake and grabbed his skates.

It was as though the entire town had decided to go skating today as couples and families glided on the ice. Wyatt wove between skaters toward where he saw one of his hideous Christmas sweaters in motion. Scarlett held Nick’s hand in hers while they drifted across the ice.

Though Nick’s back was to him, Wyatt could see Scarlett laughing. He tasted something bitter as she skated a loop with Nick.

Nick spotted him first halfway through the loop. A look of surprise transformed his stoic features and alerted Scarlett, who glanced over her shoulder.

“Hi, Wyatt!” she chimed, clueless as ever.

Wyatt slowed beside the two. “Hi, Scarlett,” he said, though his eyes were on Nick.

Nick held his gaze, refusing to look away, and Scarlett’s eyes flickered between them, finally catching on. “I’ll, uh,” she muttered, “go see what Holly’s doing.”

As she skated away, Wyatt drew closer. Nick reflexively skated back, putting twice the original distance between them.

“What did I do?” Wyatt asked in a small voice.

Nick closed his eyes, unable to withstand the visible hurt on Wyatt’s face. “You didn’t do-- It’s me, okay? I can’t...”

Nick’s eyes opened as Wyatt moved, but this time, he was allowed to close the distance. “Can’t what? Tell me.”

Wyatt searched Nick’s face for something like the truth. Though he barely knew Nick, he could sense that inside the rogue, there was passion and cleverness, conflict and pain. 

“I just can’t,” Nick said at last.

They were quiet as the world danced around them without a care. Then, Wyatt offered his hand.

“Skate with me.”

\--

Nick’s hand fitted in Wyatt’s, the pair skated leisurely around the lake. Wyatt chatted, telling Nick about his mother, Winter Haven, the plane he was working on in his garage. For the most part, Nick just listened. His voice was paralyzed with fear.

What-if questions cropped up every now and then, such as _what if I’m falling for Wyatt_ and _what if I can’t walk away_ , but for the most part, Nick fought them off. 

Right now, Nick didn’t worry about the future. He was just skating with Wyatt.

They wove between other skaters effortlessly, all while holding hands.

“You’re a really good skater,” Wyatt commented.

Taken out of his thoughts, Nick said, “Oh--yes. I used to skate all the time with my mother, before she…”

He trailed off, lost in the memory of his mother’s brutal death at the fangs of werewolves. That fateful night when his family had gone camping for the holidays, they stumbled into werewolf territory, and his life had changed forever. Thankfully, Wyatt didn’t press the issue.

Instead, he spun with Nick, their skates carving the ice as they entwined. Nick found himself in Wyatt’s arms, eye-to-eye with the taller man.

Wyatt’s eyes roamed Nick’s face before he pulled away. “Thanks for skating with me.”

Nick swallowed his frantic heartbeat. “No problem.”

\--

Wyatt woke to the soft call of his name. Tangled in his bedsheets, he rubbed at his eyes and peered toward the source of the sound. Nick, dressed in an old pair of Wyatt’s pajamas, stood in the doorway. The almost-full moon provided enough light streaming through the window for Wyatt to realize Nick’s dark eyes were staring at him intently.

“What…”

Nick crossed the room to Wyatt’s bedside in two quick strides and cupped the blond’s face in his hands. Wyatt froze.

“Don’t overthink this,” Nick ordered. He leaned in and connected his lips with Wyatt’s.

Wyatt was still, stunned by the turn of events, but Nick’s mouth moved enthusiastically against his. Slowly, his passion thawed Wyatt. He buried his hands in Nick’s hair and tried to keep up with the kiss. When he breathed in, he could almost taste Nick’s arousal on his tongue. It awakened his own desire, and his mouth parted, inviting.

Nick obliged, the rogue’s tongue stroking Wyatt’s before sweeping across his bottom lip. Wyatt’s hands left Nick’s hair to grab his waist and pull the other man on top of him. Nick gasped but accepted the new position as he straddled the blond. Wyatt’s fingers dug into Nick’s hips; Nick’s mouth left Wyatt’s to trail down his jaw. Wyatt moaned as teeth marked his neck and hands tilted his head back to allow better access.

Gentle went out the door as the rogue bit down hard enough to draw blood. Wyatt panted, intoxicated by the want that jolted through his body. His hands found the edge of Nick’s shirt and tugged. The mouth at his neck left long enough for Wyatt to raise Nick’s shirt over his head and cast it aside.

Wyatt’s eyes feasted on Nick’s chest, on the muscle he hid underneath those damn festive sweaters. When his gaze lifted to Nick’s face, a similar look of hunger in his expression, Wyatt recovered enough sense to realize what they were doing.

“Nick, are you sure you want to--”

Nick’s eyes widened, and he jerked forward, silencing the question with a rough kiss. He mumbled between kisses, “I told you… not to… overthink this.”

“Okay,” Wyatt breathed. The rational part of his mind was submerged once more in lust.

Nick gave an approving hum that melted into a moan as Wyatt’s nails cascaded down his back. Wyatt twisted his hips, rolling them over so he lay between Nick’s legs. Nick yelped in surprise before they were kissing again.

Wyatt’s lips trailed away from Nick’s to mouth at his jaw. The other man rolled his head back and sighed blissfully as Wyatt’s kisses continued to move lower, teeth grazing the curve of his hip, hands tugging at his waistband.

Wyatt only paused long enough to fetch protection and lubricant from his bedside table, and then they were moving together, caressing, moaning, tasting. Nick applied the same attention to detail and intensity as he did when he shred apart a manuscript, and Wyatt struggled to catch his breath against overwhelming pleasure.

Sated and tired, they curled together, Nick’s head resting on Wyatt’s chest and Wyatt stroking the curve of Nick’s ear with a fingertip. Nick’s breathing slowed as he dropped into a dreamless sleep. Careful not to disturb him, Wyatt craned his neck to check the clock. Midnight.

\--

**Day of the Full Moon**

\--

A beam of sunlight battered against Nick’s eyes. He squinted and shielded his eyes with his hand, which had previously been draped around…

Nick slowly looked up, his gaze roving over a bare, muscled chest to a neck marked by bruises and finally, to Wyatt’s sleeping face.

Shock lanced through him. “Oh no.”

He retraced his thoughts leading up to his night with Wyatt and found that he’d been driven entirely by lust. So close to the full moon, he could barely think rationally knowing that just a room away, a gorgeous man lay sleeping. A man with dazzling blue eyes and the body of a Greek god…

_Focus!_

Nick examined his options. Currently, one of Wyatt’s arms encircled his waist. He’d have to carefully maneuver himself out of his hold in order to retreat to his room. And then… what? How would he get himself out of this one? And more importantly… did he want to?

Of course he did. _Remember your career, your normal life_. Last night, he’d lost control, and it would have to start with shoving Wyatt away to get it back.

Nick took a deep breath, removed Wyatt’s arm, and rolled out of bed.

Wyatt woke slowly, blinking sleepily in the early morning light. His eyes focused on Nick, and he smiled. “Good morning.”

Nick didn’t say anything, just searched for his pajamas.

Wyatt noticed Nick’s haste and sat up. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Nick said, gathering the rest of his clothes.

“Hey, hey, wait.” Wyatt jumped out of bed and stopped Nick before he could dart out of the door, concern written on his features. “What’s going on?”

Nick bit his lip and looked away from Wyatt, unable to meet the searing blue eye-to-eye. “Listen, last night was… a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

Nick winced at the hurt at Wyatt’s tone and tried again. “It was a lapse in judgment. It would be better if we just… forget it happened.”

A long moment of silence passed before Wyatt’s face hardened. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Nick’s gaze flitted back to Wyatt in wide-eyed surprise as the blond launched into a rant. “I mean did you really think you could just use me and everything would be fine?”

“I didn’t--”

“Yes, you did,” Wyatt interjected. He threw his hands up and said, “I don’t know why I let myself be used like that. Damn me to hell, I guess, for thinking you might not be a completely selfish asshole.”

Nick’s voice raised to match Wyatt’s. “What exactly did you think last night was? The start of a world-ending romance? Be reasonable, Wyatt.”

Wyatt scrubbed a hand down his face and muttered, “I don’t know what I thought. Certainly not that it was a mistake.”

Though he didn’t apologize, Nick was sorry for the position he’d put Wyatt in, to play host to an unclaimed werewolf who wanted nothing to do with him. He sighed. “Wyatt…”

“No,” Wyatt said, holding up a hand. “Just don’t. Your helicopter will be repaired after Christmas, so you can return to your normal life and forget all about the backwoods werewolf you screwed.”

Nick turned away, unable to take Wyatt’s tone anymore. He closed the guest room door behind him and sat on the bed, putting his face in his hands. Rubbing his temples, he laid out a scheme to get him through the next 48 hours.

With the full moon shining down on them, they would Change tonight, as far away from each other as they could manage. Then in the morning, Nick would pick himself up, hike back from wherever his wolf had taken him to a stash of warm clothes, and ignore everyone in Winter Haven by reading manuscripts until his helicopter was repaired.

It was a solid, if heartless, plan, but someone had different ideas for Nick.

\--

The werewolves avoided each other effectively until an hour before sundown, where they met in Wyatt’s truck to drive out into the woods. No words passed between them, tension hanging heavy in the loud silence. Wyatt kept the windows rolled down as they drove so he could smell the earthy aroma of the forest rather than Nick’s barely hidden anxiety.

A part of Wyatt still wanted to comfort him, assure him that he wouldn’t lose himself in the wilderness. But stubbornness and hurt won out, and he didn’t speak until they reached a snow-ridden path between the trees.

Wyatt slowed the truck beside it. “Well, here it is.”

Nick scanned the expanse of trees and undergrowth, untamed except for the trail Wyatt had made himself. He glanced at Wyatt. “So I just…”

“Leave your clothes and your water in the nook of that tree there,” Wyatt said, pointing. When Nick still hesitated, he added, “You’ll be able to find your way back. Trust me.”

Nick opened the door and climbed out, taking with him a shopping bag with clothes and snacks. When Wyatt ran as a wolf, sometimes he wouldn’t catch anything, leaving him starving in the morning. The care package was his idea.

“Thank you,” Nick muttered.

Wyatt’s expression softened slightly. “You’ll be okay, I promise.”

Nick nodded once and turned toward the snowy path. Wyatt watched as he deposited the bag in the hiding place and ventured into the woods, the weak sunlight draining from between the trees. Once the rogue was out of sight, Wyatt drove his truck farther along the road until he reached another concealed trail. He drove the truck into the thicket, just far enough that it couldn’t be seen from the road, and left it with his own bag of supplies. He’d learned not to leave his things in the truck in case some human did find it and have it towed.

He hiked through the snow over a hill and past a sluggish river, and he continued to walk until his body told him it was time. Now the only light was what moonlight made it through the leaves and reflected off the snow. Wyatt stripped out of his clothes and sank into a crouch, willing the Change to move through his body.

His bones crackled and mended into new shapes. He winced as his jaw lengthened and his spine crunched, then sighed with the pin-prick of fur warming him from the cold. Dark claws sprouted from his morphing fingers while his teeth became fangs. He walked a few paces, stretching out his limbs as the muscle settled into place.

Lifting his muzzle to the breeze, the sandy-brown creature caught the scents of the night: damp earth, smaller animals, running water. “Wolf” was a convenient term applied to these beings; they were too large and intelligent, with long limbs and fire-filled eyes, to be true wolves. Some would say “monster.”

The “wolf” howled, though he didn’t expect a response. His ears pricked as a howl answered back, low and solemn, and he ran toward it, his long limbs eating the distance. After a few minutes of running, he howled again. He strained to hear the other wolf. This time, the only thing to respond was silence.

He howled once more and waited several minutes, to no avail. Resigning, the wolf creature followed the scent of rabbits and ran along the river, relishing in his freedom under the winter moon.

\--

**Christmas Day**

\--

As the sun chased away the moon, Wyatt woke in a pool of melted snow.

And Nick woke in a cage.

\--

Noticing that Nick had yet to pick up his supplies, Wyatt waited at the trail for nearly an hour before going into the woods to find him.

Wyatt wasn’t sure what he expected to find, exactly, perhaps Nick wounded or lost and confused. After all, Wyatt hadn’t lied to him about how easy it was to follow your own trail back to the beginning. Or maybe Wyatt just had more experience with it than Nick.

As he followed Nick’s scent, he kept his eye out for anything weird. And he found it.

A few miles in, piercing a tree trunk, was a silver dart.

Wyatt plucked it out of the tree and turned it over carefully in his hands. It was at the height of a wolf, and it smelled of tranquilizers… and of someone else, someone familiar. Noel Santos.

“Nick?” Wyatt called, crashing through the undergrowth. Two more feet and Nick’s scent had disappeared, the snow disturbed by tire tracks. Wyatt hurried along the tire tracks as they looped back to the road and disappeared.

Wyatt laced his fingers behind his neck and paced beside his truck. At first, he thought maybe the mayor had been poaching and stumbled across Nick by accident, but then he thought back to the way Nick reacted when he shook his hand, the silver in the dart, and knew it was no coincidence.

There were two places Mayor Santos might be. At his home, though it didn’t seem likely… or at the winter cabin at which he held his Christmas parties, where Wyatt and his mother had spent many holidays when he was a kid.

Firing up his truck, Wyatt stomped on the gas and peeled deeper into the Winter Haven woods.

\--

The cage Nick woke up in was large enough for the metal table he was bound to. Said cage was also spiked, discouraging him from trying to tear himself out of it. The tranquilizers were slow to wear off, so he barely noticed the handcuffs, the blanket draped across his waist, or the IV planted in his arm.

“What…” he mumbled. His head felt as though it were stuffed with cotton. Vaguely, he remembered Changing, the howls of wolves, a sharp pain in his side… then everything went black.

“Ah, our werewolf awakens, ladies and gentlemen,” a voice said. Nick tried to focus on it to pull himself out of his stupor and saw the blearily outline of a man standing in front of the cage. “We’ll get started in a few minutes here, but let’s give him a chance to wake up.”

Nick tilted his head and saw the IV, the empty tube attached to a bag of red. From that bag, another red tube led to a wolf, trapped in a different cage, apparently under the influence of tranquilizers as well.

“What the hell?” Nick tried to sit up and found his wrists tightly held by the handcuffs to the table. The IV tugged painfully as he struggled.

“Good luck getting out of those, they’re pure silver.”

Nick looked up. His vision cleared enough to make out a face peering in at him, a man in scrubs, one gloved hand pressed to the cage separating them.

“Mayor Santos?” he slurred.

The mayor checked his watch. “Should be just a few more moments before the tranqs wear off, and we’ll get started.”

Nick looked around for others, but beside Mayor Santos and the wolf, the cabin was empty. His gaze moved past Santos to the camera on a wall, feeding to a computer monitor. In it, Nick saw himself as the star, stretched out on the metal table. Mayor Santos turned to the camera, and his face lit up as he delivered a speech.

“You who’ve followed my blog for a few years now know my story,” he was saying, “but to the new viewers: welcome! I’m Noel Santos, and I’m a werewolf hunter.”

Cold fear spread through Nick’s blood. Santos chuckled and removed one glove to show off an ornately carved ring. “My family has been hunting these beasts for generations. However! They didn’t succeed in ridding an entire werewolf pack from Winter Haven. That is, until I came into the picture. I killed what I could, and the rest fled. I’m proud to report my town is one hundred percent free of wolfkind.”

Nick jerked his wrists against the handcuffs. “Help! Somebody! Help!”

Mayor Santos smiled sardonically as he tugged his glove back on. “Except for, of course, the occasional straggler. But don’t worry, folks. This werewolf won’t hurt anyone, ever again.” Swiveling to face Nick, he said, “Scream all you want. No one is coming to help you.”

Nick winced as the silver handcuffs dug into his skin, creating burns, but he didn’t stop struggling. “You’re a madman!”

“Actually, I’m a licensed RN.” This was to the camera again. “And no animals have suffered for this procedure.”

“Procedure?” Nick repeated.

Santos ignored him, addressing his online audience. “I have here a normal wolf from whom I’m borrowing a pint of blood.” He touched the bag of red leading to Nick’s IV. “I’ve also added a dash of colloidal silver. Wolf hormones and silver combined, this should, theoretically, cause our werewolf to shift into his true form before our eyes.” 

Nick gave up trying to tear himself out of the handcuffs as the pain overwhelmed him. “Please…” he whispered. “Don’t do this.”

“And after he transforms,” Santos continued as though he didn’t hear Nick, “I’ll be delivering a silver bullet to the creature’s brain, ensuring that he does no harm.” He patted a holstered gun at his side. “Proving to the world that werewolves exist, once and for all.”

Nick swallowed hard and searched for some way out, some weakness in the cage or the cuffs, but Santos had been thorough. “And now,” the mayor said, reaching to the bag and tweaking it, “we begin.”

Nick watched helplessly as the red concoction trickled through the IV, racing into his veins.

\--

The front door shattered as it was kicked open, and Wyatt stood on the other side. He surveyed the madness before him: Nick on a surgical table inside a large cage and Mayor Santos standing by like a deranged Igor. Wyatt marched into the room and shoved the mayor against the wall. “Are you insane, Noel?!”

“Wyatt!” Santos gasped. “I-- I can explain, you see, Nick is a--”

“A human being, you maniac!” Wyatt looked up and noticed the camera and monitor. “What kind of sick freak are you?” He let go of the mayor and crossed the room to Nick’s cage. 

Santos chased after him. “No, you’re going to ruin everything!”

Yanking at the lock, Wyatt scraped his knuckles against one of the silver barbs on the cage. He hissed as his skin crackled and healed.

Mayor Santos noticed. A low chuckle behind Wyatt made him spin around to see Santos had a gun in hand, pointed at him. “Wyatt Hart. I should have known. Your father hid you well.”

Wyatt raised his hands in a show of surrender. “Noel, think about what you’re doing. This is crazy--”

“Quiet!” Santos shouted. “I know what you are. You can’t talk your way out of this.”

A low groan beside them caught their attention. Nick seized, his body spasming and his eyes rolling back in his head.

Wyatt looked back to Santos. With him distracted, Wyatt launched himself forward and grabbed the gun. He wrestled it out of Santos’s hand and directed it at his head.

Santos closed his eyes, bracing himself. At the last second, Wyatt shifted his aim to the camera and pulled the trigger. The camera fell off the wall in a ruined heap and the monitor went dark.

“There. Now your horrific spectacle is done.” Wyatt dropped the magazine from the gun and kicked it across the room. He aimed at Santos again with the remaining bullet. “Let Nick go. After that, call an ambulance.”

Hands shaking, Santos dug into his pocket and fished out a key for the cage. He unlocked the padlock, then the handcuffs on both of Nick’s wrists.

Nick rolled off the table and fell on his hands and knees. The IV wrenched out of his arm, spilling blood and silver. His back arched as he retched dryly. 

“Nick?” Wyatt knelt beside the rogue as shudders rolled through him. Judging by the shifting muscle in his back, he was Changing.

A blunt object cracked against Wyatt’s skull. Stars exploded in his vision, and he collapsed into darkness. When he came to, it was to screaming and the heavy smell of blood.

Rubbing his head, Wyatt sat up. And stared at the scene before him.

A gray wolf pinned Santos to the ground. Bleeding from the shoulder, the wolf lowered his muzzle to Santos’s stomach. The man’s shrieks rang in Wyatt’s head, almost drowning out the sound of teeth tearing flesh and blood splashing the floorboards. Self-defense had turned to bloodlust and taken hold of Nick.

“Oh, god.” Wyatt lurched to his feet and hurried over to the pair. He pulled the wolf off of Mayor Santos, but he knew by the sight of Santos’s exposed intestines that it was too late for the werewolf hunter.

The wolf twisted free from his arms and spun on Wyatt. His lips lifted from his teeth in a snarl.

Rather than dwell on the blood marring the wolf’s fangs or the cooling body beside him, Wyatt took a deep breath in and forced himself to be calm. Fear only enticed a predator. “Nick,” he said evenly. “He forced you into this body, but you can fight it.” He reached out.

The wolf took a tentative step back, hackles raised, and growled a warning.

Wyatt hesitated, but only for a second. He continued to reach for the wolf. “This isn’t who you are. Remember who you are, Nick.”

The wolf shivered as Wyatt buried his hands in his bloodied fur and touched their foreheads together. A few agonizing minutes passed as the wolf shifted, and Nick embraced him.

“I…” Nick trembled. “I killed him. I can taste his blood.”

“Don’t look.” Wyatt turned Nick away from the body on the floor, still holding him close. “I’m so sorry.”

Nick leaned into Wyatt, no doubt dazed and exhausted. “What am I going to do?”

Wyatt’s own panic calmed into certainty. “Leave it to me.”

\--

**December 26th**

\--

Nick slept most of the day. His transformations had exhausted his body, and in his dreams, there was blood and silver bullets and Wyatt’s pale, grim face assuring him everything would be alright.

When he blinked awake from his slumber, he found Wyatt staring out of the window. He was in Wyatt’s bed rather than the guest bed, dressed in comfortable clothing from Wyatt’s closet.

“What happened?” he murmured.

Wyatt glanced at him, then away, out the window once more. “I took care of it.”

Apprehension prickled along Nick’s spine. “What does that mean?”

“It means I cleaned up the body and left it in the woods to rot,” Wyatt said coldly. “No one will ever find him. As for the video, I destroyed it. Only those who were watching know what happened.”

Nick asked the unspoken question in Wyatt’s words. “And how many people saw?”

Wyatt sighed. “Enough.”

He turned away from the window and faced Nick as Nick struggled to comprehend. “I’m going to lie low for a while. Get out of town.”

“And then?” Nick asked.

“Then,” Wyatt said, “I’ll find my father. Learn the truth.”

Evening sunlight filtered through the window, casting everything in an eerie orange glow. Nick glanced at the bedside clock and found it to be 6 pm. Bandages encircled his wrists and wrapped around his shoulder, where Santos’s dull knife had swung wide of his heart. The scars would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Nick buried his face in his hands.

He heard Wyatt move closer and felt the mattress sink under his weight as he sat beside Nick. “Listen,” he said softly. “I’m not going to try to make it okay. I know nothing can make it okay. But for what it’s worth… I see you.”

Nick lifted his head to pin Wyatt with a stare. Wyatt explained, “You’re a career-driven man with a haunted past. But you’re strong enough to move on, and I know you’ll be able to forgive yourself for this. Eventually, you will.”

“You’re wrong,” Nick said, his voice thick.

“Maybe,” Wyatt admitted. He took Nick’s hands in his and met his eyes. “But you’re not alone. You won’t have to go through this by yourself.”

Nick looked away. He’d already mated Wyatt, so it was a matter of saying out loud that he loved the other man to cement their bond. No longer would he be packless and unclaimed.

But his normal life… Well, the illusion was shattered now, anyway. He’d killed a man. The thought of returning to New York, pouring over vapid manuscripts, and holding people at arm’s length made him feel sick. Because at the end of the day, he was still a monster, but a monster who wanted desperately to be loved.

“You’re not a monster,” Wyatt said, as though reading Nick’s mind. “You’re still Nick Peralta, publishing agent and pain in the ass.”

Nick smiled without joy. “I wish I could believe you.”

Wyatt pressed his lips to Nick’s in a gentle kiss. When he pulled away, he said, “My offer still stands. You can come with me.”

“Where would we go?” Nick said.

“I was thinking south, toward Virginia,” was Wyatt’s answer. “My father used to send me postcards from there, before… well, he stopped.”

Nick weighed his options. If he did somehow magically get over murdering Santos, he would want to return to his job and apartment in New York. He had enough vacation days saved up to last a few weeks. And if he never recovered, well… He wouldn’t mind finding other werewolves and learning how they lived, saying ‘screw it’ to normalcy and embracing who he was.

Nick weighed his words carefully. “It’s not… the worst idea. But I’ll need to get things arranged in New York first.”

“I’ll come with you,” Wyatt offered. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

Nick searched Wyatt’s face. “...Okay. Deal.”

Wyatt squeezed Nick’s hands before standing. “I’m going to go make some arrangements of my own. You should rest. You’re still healing.”

Nick didn’t want to sound needy, but he responded, “Don’t be too long.”

“Of course,” Wyatt said. He stopped in the doorway and smiled slightly at Nick. “Oh, by the way. Merry Christmas.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Bite me.”

\--

With the Hart Mechanics closed and the mayor missing, the townspeople of Winter Haven had to scramble to adjust. Wyatt wasn’t entirely concerned about them, though; they were a bright, close-knit community. Together, they could overcome anything.

Wyatt regretted not being able to tell his mother why he was leaving, or that he was leaving at all. She would be safer in the dark with the rest of the residents of Winter Haven.

Wyatt waited beside his truck as the helicopter touched down in the snowy clearing. The sky protested against the sun by blocking it in thick, dark clouds. Harsh winds kicked up a flurry of snow into Wyatt’s face, and he had to shield his eyes to see Nick exit the copter and move toward him.

Nick waved at Charles as the pilot lifted back into the air, fighting against the weather to ascend. He dragged a suitcase behind him and he met Wyatt halfway.

Wyatt wrapped his arms around Nick and held the man close. Nick returned the embrace, burying his face in Wyatt’s neck and inhaling his scent.

“So this is it,” Nick muttered, nearly inaudible in the storm.

“This is it,” Wyatt agreed. Pulling away, he hoisted Nick’s suitcase and unlocked the truck cover to settle it in the bed alongside Wyatt’s.

They got in the truck and idled for a minute as they understood the journey ahead of them. Nick settled his hand on the seat between them and exhaled heavily.

“Time to find out the truth,” he murmured.

Wyatt grasped Nick’s hand, entwining their fingers. “Together.”


End file.
